


Got Me An Appetite

by rainbowsandgucci



Category: One Direction
Genre: All I can do is apologize tbh, Blow Jobs, Dressing Room Sex, I was inspired, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Smut, This is all because of that fucking kilt, Wet & Messy, bye, the kilt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-15
Updated: 2018-04-15
Packaged: 2019-04-23 03:02:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,110
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14323131
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rainbowsandgucci/pseuds/rainbowsandgucci
Summary: " “Alright darling, ‘m ready.”Louis opens his eyes (finallyfor the love of christ), and, immediately after, so does his mouth.Because he’dseenthe outfit beforehand -of course he had, he sees all of them- but now he’s seeing iton Harry, and he’s not quite sure he remembers how to speak."Louis sees Harry in The Kilt for the first time





	Got Me An Appetite

**Author's Note:**

> @alexandra shut up  
> @nina thanks for always supporting me i love u

“Are your eyes closed?”

Louis sighs, and exasperatedly nods his head. “ _Yes_ Harold for they last time, they _are_ , now would you _please_ get on with it?”

He hears Harry giggle as the door opens, then a second later, he hears it shut. There’s the shuffle of the Gucci shoes Harry’s been wearing ever since they finished their pink bath bomb filled bathing session, just because he loves them so much, and _finally_ Louis can feel his presence. 

“Alright darling, ‘m ready.”

Louis opens his eyes ( _finally_ for the love of christ), and, immediately after, so does his mouth.

Because he’d _seen_ the outfit beforehand -of course he had, he sees all of them- but now he’s seeing it _on Harry_ , and he’s not quite sure he remembers how to speak.

Harry’s still smiling, because the wanker knows exactly what he’s doing, as he tugs at one of the jacket sleeves. “It is nice isn’t it? Fits perfectly, right Lou?”

Louis licks his lips, and looks up at Harry through his eyelashes, before looking up and down his body again. “It looks….looks lovely Haz. I love it.” His voice sounds infinitely weaker than he likes it to sound, though by the look on Harry’s face, it’s obvious he doesn't feel the same way.

With an obnoxiously smug look on his face, Harry steps closer to Louis, then runs a hand through his own hair. “I’m glad you do baby, none of my outfits would be complete without your approval.”

He’s grinning, now, from cute ear to cute ear, and Louis wants to respond back with something equally as sappy, because that’s what they _do_ , but. But Harry is wearing a fucking _kilt_ , is the thing, and Louis has seen him in skirts, and he’s seen him in fucking dresses, and he’s seen him in skinny jeans and booty shorts and fucking _nothing at all_.

He’s never actually worn a kilt before though, and it’s got Louis feeling some type of _way_.

It’s then he realizes he’s basically spaced out for a couple minutes, because Harry’s hand is coming up to rest on the side of his face, cheeky grin still in place.

“You okay love? You’re looking just a tad peaky.”

Louis swallows, and finally looks up at Harry fully. “ _Harry_.”

Harry laughs, just a little, then moves his hand up so he can curl his pretty polished fingers in Louis’ hair. “It looks that good, hm love?”

Louis nods, and brings his hands up to rest on Harry’s waist. “I want to…..” He pulls his bottom lip into his mouth, and squeezes at Harry’s waist, once.”

Harry hums, brings his own hand to rest on Louis’ waist, and pulls him forward so they’re pressed together. Louis suddenly becomes fully aware of just how hard he is, and he moans softly. 

Harry kisses him, a quick peck on the lips, then moves to press a kiss to Louis’ jaw. He stays there, lips against his skin, as he tugs just a bit harder with the hand still in Louis’ hair. “You want to get on your knees for me darling? Suck my cock just an hour before I go on stage?”

Louis nods as much as he can, his chest heaving even though they’ve done absolutely nothing, and he can feel Harry’s laugh, but he doesn’t _care_ because he’s still fucking _standing_.

“Please Haz? Can I? For good luck?”

Harry groans, and in the next instant, his grip on Louis’ hair has moved to Louis’ cheeks, his painted -except for where they’re _chipped from being inside Louis_ \- fingers squeezing, and he’s gripping there as well as his waist as he begins walking Louis backwards, until his back hits the wall. Then he’s kissing Louis again, his grip hard and his lips possessive, and Louis is suddenly immensely grateful for the wall holding him up.

When Harry eventually pulls away from their kiss, he’s panting as well, his lips are cherry red, and he’s looking at Louis like he wants to fuck him for _hours_ , his impending show be damned. 

“On your knees love, give me something to think about for the next couple hours.” Louis closes his eyes briefly, then nods as he lowers himself to his knees. Harry’s grip moves to his hair again, and he uses it to guide Louis down, gently, lovingly, and with enough force that Louis is glad he’s already on the floor, because his knees are _weak_.

Once he’s settled on the floor, Harry moves forward, one hand pressed to the wall, and the other one lifting his kilt up slightly. “C’mon sweetheart, if you’re quick I might let you get off before the show.”

Louis moans, and impatiently gets himself ducked under the edge of the kilt. He whines frustratedly as he fumbles with the waistband of Harry’s underwear, because _fuck_ he doesn’t want to sit through an entire show of Harry jumping around in a fucking kilt.

When he finally gets it, he hears Harry let out a groan, and then there’s a hand on the back of his neck, with the hem of the kilt resting just over his head. “There you go sweets, use your pretty lips love, show me how good you are.”

Almost reverently (because really, Louis could worship Harry’s cock for _hours_ ) Louis kisses just the wet, leaking tip, then down the side, and finally, when Harry lets out a frustrated huff and squeezes the back of his neck, he lets Harry fuck shallowly into his mouth. Louis lets out a contented sigh at the feeling; his body sags, and his eyes slip shut without his permission. Above him, Harry lets out a soft laugh, and begins to move his hips slowly.

“You _love_ this don’t you honey? On your knees, letting me fuck your lovely mouth. ‘S like you were made for this isn’t it?” Louis moans, sucks a little harder, and brings a hand up to clutch at Harry’s smooth thigh (he’d done that for him earlier in the bath). Harry groans then, deep, guttural, and uses his grip on Louis’ neck to angle his head and hold it still as he begins to fuck in deeper.

“ _Fuck_ , you’re so good for me darling, so filthy for me. I bet you’re so hard, aren’t you love?” Louis whines, and grips at his own thigh to stop himself from touching his own cock through his jeans. Harry _definitely_ wouldn’t let him come if he saw that.

“Look at you Lou, being so good for me and not touching. Even when you think I can’t see you. So _fucking_ good- _fuck_.” He fucks in deep, then, and stays. “Love your fucking mouth darling, love how you just let me take.” Louis’ stomach _swoops_ , and his cock throbs, and he shifts, the tears already welling in his eyes beginning to drop because he’s trying _so hard_ to get friction without touching.

Harry notices, -because _of course_ he does, he always knows what his boy needs- and squeezes comfortingly at the back of Louis’ neck on his next thrust. “You’re being so good for me sweetheart, why don’t you undo your jeans for me love? You must be hurting.”

Louis whimpers, sucking hard and moving his head just a few times as a thank you. Harry _moans_ , in such a way that Louis just _knows_ his head has dropped forward, and lets out a few choked off curses. As Louis gets his jeans unbuttoned, and his own absolutely _aching_ cock pulled free, he begins moving his head. Harry’s grip loosens just a fraction, and Louis takes that as the blessing it is, and begins to _move_.

Above him, Harry’s cursing, groaning, and in between, is _still_ managing to talk dirty.

“ _Fuck_ Lou, fucking love your fucking mouth; _god_ , gonna keep you on your fucking knees forever, make you suck me off whenever I want, you’d fucking _love_ that wouldn’t you?”

And, the thing is, Harry’s words, combined with his low, raspy, smooth as fucking _silk_ voice, has Louis desperate at any time. Now, though. _Now_ , being on his knees, with barely half an hour before Harry needs to be _on stage in a fucking kilt_ , the words have Louis nearly shaking. He’s gripping Harry’s thighs so hard they’re probably going to bruise, he’s so hard but he _can’t touch_ , and he’s crying now, tears rolling down his eyes in steady streams as Harry takes over again. He’s fucking in hard, and going deeper than he’d be able to if they hadn’t been together as long as they have, and Louis is just about to begin _sobbing_ around his cock, when Harry sucks in a breath. “I’m close sweetheart, alright?” 

Louis whines, and squeezes once at Harry’s right thigh - _yes_ \- and Harry moans as he begins fucking his hips back and forth even _harder_. “So good sweets, rub against my leg honey, get yourself off before I do or you’re not coming.”

Louis’ desperation rears, because he _knows_ Harry’s close, knows he’s got about thirty seconds, and he’s worried this isn’t going to work.

Then, Harry’s leg moves between his legs, still clad in his black socks and fucking _Gucci shoes_ , and it’s over.

He finishes, sobbing with Harry’s hand squeezing the back of his neck, his long cock still fucking into his throat, his own dick rutting against one of Harry’s long legs, underneath the fucking kilt.

When he feels Louis’ body spasming, Harry _knows_ what’s happened, and shortly after, is coming into Louis’ mouth.

Because he’s _good, so fucking good for his Hazza_ , Louis swallows until he just _can’t_ , and then it gets on his lips and his cheeks, and there’s a bit on his _nose_ , god he’s a _mess_. Harry pulls away slightly then, and gets himself down in front of Louis on the floor.

It takes a minute -or five- for Louis to fully realize what’s going on, but when he does, he’s got his jeans fully buttoned up again, face cleaned of any come or tears, and Harry’s pressing sweet kisses to his cheeks, and whispering sweet nothings to him ( _love you so much darling, so good for me, my sweet sweet boy, my baby honey_ ) with one hand rubbing his back, and the other one helping to guide him off of his knees and onto Harry’s lap.

He goes willingly, eagerly, and curls up with his face pressed to Harry’s chest as his breathing finally slows, and the tears finally turn into quiet sniffles. Harry’s still kissing him all over; his forehead, his cheek, the top of his head, and then even brings his hand up and begins pressing kisses to that as well. He continues, up his wrist, his forearm, then his elbow, until Louis’ giggling, and shaking his head.

“ _Stop_ it Gomez, you’re being ridiculous.”

Harry laughs as well, but finally stops and brings his face back to Louis’. “Heeeey, thought you liked being my Morticia.”

Louis shakes his head, but nuzzles into Harry’s chest, and grips at his jacket. “‘f course I do, always g’nna be yours.”

Harry hums, and hugs Louis closer. They sit there silently for a few moments, until Louis feels his breathing even out, and his eyes are completely dry. Then, he pokes softly at Harry’s chest.

“Do you have any extra socks? Think I um. May have ruined yours.”

His cheeks redden as he says it, and he can practically feel Harry’s grin pressed into the top of his head. “Nah, gonna have to nick some from Clare or Sarah.”

Louis gasps, and sits up. “You did that on _purpose_!”

Harry just gives him a shrug and a smile. “Maybe I did, maybe I didn’t. Didn’t hear you complaining.”

“Oh my god.”

Harry just giggles as they pick themselves up and fix Harry’s clothes. Just as Louis’ just finished helping Harry get his new socks on, there’s a knock on the door warning Harry that he’s got twenty minutes before show time. It took about a week of the first tour for the entire crew to figure out that if Louis was around, they should _not_ open the door without knocking under any circumstance. 

As Harry presses Louis to the wall and kisses him silly for another five minutes, he can’t even bring himself to be embarrassed about that, the stains still on the first pair of socks Harry’d been wearing, or the fact that the entire crew can see the hickeys on his neck and the way his lips are definitely more swollen than they were an hour ago.

 _Nope_ , he thinks as he watches Harry prance around on stage, _no regrets at all_.


End file.
